


Companion

by tonepoem



Category: Original Work
Genre: Extra Treat, High Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 16:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11718273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonepoem/pseuds/tonepoem
Summary: A second-best Prince is "rescued"--by someone who actually wants him.





	Companion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VanaTuivana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanaTuivana/gifts).



James, eighth of his name, unwanted Prince of Grenlond, sat on the bench at the entrance of the cavern and brooded. He had the green eyes of the Royal Blood, and the black hair, and the physique of someone used to more strenuous activity. But at the moment he wasn't doing anything more strenuous than sitting with his chin in his hands.

It was a very nice cavern, he had to admit. The dragon who made it her home claimed that landscape architecture was a specialty of her kind--not that he was about to contradict a dragon on her home turf--and out by the entrance were multiple benches, shaped as though by the finest sculptors by the dragon's wizardry. Above him, vines draped gracefully from arches, and trees shaded the entrance quite cunningly so that it would not be too obvious from a distance.

All the same, the fact remained that his older brother, Prince Thomas, fourth of his name, had turned him over to the dragon in exchange for "border security." It rankled. If James had any chance of besting either the dragon in a contest of spells, or his older brother at a contest of arms, he'd have made a break for it.

But the truth of the matter was that James had always been the second best at everything. Admittedly wizardry wasn't the strong point of anyone of the Royal Blood of Grenlond. The Crown had always had the damndest time trying to recruit and retain wizards. But James had been second best at even the simple charms of health and (ahem) virility that the Crown's Grimoire contained. And for all his hard training, the mornings sweating in the courtyard and whacking training dummies, he was a decided second best at the art of the sword, at least as far as the Royal Blood was concerned--and forget all the knights, or the men-at-arms.

James, eighth of his name, considered kicking one of the flowering shrubs. The dragon had told it its scientific name, but he'd lost track long ago. The dragon was unfailingly polite and educational, but James had no head for this kind of stuff. Another reason why his irritatingly perfect brother had argued that James would be best used as a "companion" for the dragon. He reminded himself that the dragon had been forced into the agreement upon pain of death by company of archers, to say nothing of twelve field ballistas. Mostly they'd hurt the dragon's feelings, but he doubted anyone else in his family would believe _that_.

He was lost in his self-pity when he heard _hoofbeats_. Could it be? Had the King and Queen of Grenlond changed their mind? Had they sent his brother back to retrieve him?

His face fell when he saw the rider. It was a fully armored man or woman, hard to tell beneath all that ornate plate, polished to a high sheen; the gold scroll-work and inset cabochons of garnet or ruby suggested Royal Blood, and not that of Grenlond. The sword sheathed at their back was a bastard sword with another red cabochon winking from the pommel. And the horse was a tall blood bay that looked like it could trample him without raising a sweat.

James sighed and rose to his feet. Just his luck. While he'd been allowed to bring his armor, he hadn't worn it in weeks, and he'd likewise stashed his sword back in the cave. After all, it had mostly got in his way when he helped the dragon weed her garden. Still, maybe this new rider would acknowledge the rules of chivalry and not cut down an unarmed man.

The rider reined to a halt and raised their visor. Keen brown eyes regarded James with interest. "So you're the captive," the rider said. Definitely a man, then, with that deep baritone voice.

James flushed in spite of himself. Had his brother been _telling people_? He could see it now. An absolute propaganda coup: _Brave Prince James, eighth of his name, volunteered to sacrifice his life in internal exile with the dragon of the southeastern border..._

"Who might you be?" James demanded. He didn't see any point in hiding his belligerence, and never mind the fact that the man could cut him down easily.

"Your savior," the man said. "I'm here to challenge the dragon. Be a good fellow and call it out for me, will you?"

"Not on your life," James said. He didn't _like_ being discarded, but the dragon had done all right by him, all things considered. Time to raise the alarm. "Dragon!" (He still didn't know her name. The dragon was a wizard, and wizards guarded their names like...well, like dragons guarded their hoards.)

The man swore and vaulted off his horse, tackling James. James yelped, although a corner of his brain appreciated the skill that the maneuver required. In theory, he appreciated that the man could have simply ridden him down, or used the pointy edges of the armor to wound him gravely. In practice, all the breath was knocked out of him, and he _hurt_ in a way that he remembered vividly from sparring practice. At least he'd landed in mulch and not on rock. That would have hurt worse.

A shadow fell over them both, and a hot wind that smelled of ashes and patchouli blew over them. The blood bay horse neighed in alarm, but didn't spook, which argued for its training. Most animals knew better than to stick around a dragon. "Is something the matter, Prince James?" the dragon asked politely, her golden eyes slitting.

"Intruder," James started to say, then wheezed as the man drove an elbow into his side.

Moving almost too quickly for the eye to follow, the dragon hooked a long, evil-looking claw into the stranger's armor and pried him off, then dumped him on the ground. James took the opportunity to roll away, then sat up. He was going to have bruises all over.

"You don't smell like a local," the dragon said thoughtfully, "although it's hard to tell under all that armor." She was eyeing the red cabochons with great interest--friendly though she might be, for a dragon, she still had a dragon's love of gems.

"Quite right," the man said with no trace of fear. James was starting to be impressed in spite of himself. "I am Prince Felipe of Rojodan, and your presence at this border can no longer be tolerated."

The dragon looked moodily at Prince Felipe. "Nobody appreciates landscape architecture anymore," she said. "Well, let's have a look at you." She breathed a word that caused the air to shiver with pale fire.

Prince Felipe swore as his hands moved, not of his own volition, and removed his helmet. James had to admire Felipe's handsome, hawk-nosed profile, with short-cropped auburn hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His eyes were a piercing, unusual red that matched that of his hair. James realized that he was getting turned on, and hoped that Felipe wasn't paying attention.

The dragon was less impressed by Felipe's appearance. "If there's one of you now," she said, musing, "that means more of your country's people will follow in an attempt to force the border."

"I have nothing to hide from you, fell beast," Felipe declared.

James rubbed his eyes and sighed. "Fellow Prince," he said, in the calmest voice he could muster, "I don't think the dragon is your real enemy." The effect was spoiled by a hint of a stammer. Why couldn't he _do_ anything about that?

"Speak for yourself," the dragon muttered.

"Well, you said it," James said. "There's going to be more where he came from." Hopefully none quite as good-looking, or his will to help defend the dragon's cave would crumble.

Prince Felipe, for his part, was frowning at James. "You are _allied_ with this creature?"

"Well, let me put it this way," James said. "Grenlond wouldn't thank you for _returning_ me. They don't want me anymore." His shoulders slumped as he remembered the way the King and Queen and his oh-so-perfect brother had barely lingered to see him off.

Prince Felipe's frown deepened. "Well, this certainly is not the situation I was led to expect."

The dragon folded her wings and sighed. "Looks like I'm going to have to find another lair. No offense, Prince James, but this bargain with your family is too much trouble, and I don't really _like_ getting into fights. I'm too old for that sort of nonsense. Especially since it always does a number on the landscape."

James' heart sank. Where was he going to go now? If he headed back home, they would blame him for not bullying the dragon into fighting Prince Felipe and his lurking army. As if James had the ability to bully a _dragon_.

"Well," Prince Felipe said judiciously, "if you will no longer be defending this border, then my quest is completed."

 _What about me?_ James wondered. But he knew better to say anything out loud. After all, it wasn't as if a nominally enemy prince owed him anything.

"As for you," Prince Felipe went on, as though he had divined James' thoughts, "I cannot leave you in the fell beast's clutches, even if she is vacating the premises."

James opened his mouth to defend the dragon, then closed it when the dragon shook her head at him.

"I can offer you a place in Rojodan's Court, if yours has no more place for you," Felipe said.

A lump rose in James' throat. He didn't like thinking of it in those terms...but he knew it was true. And besides, being a stableboy or gardener in Rojodan was probably better than lingering as an unwanted hermit in Grenlond. Especially if the dragon was no longer around. He hated to admit it, but she had been more of a friend to him than anyone in his family.

"I'll do it," James said quietly.

Prince Felipe knelt so that their heads were level, and raised James' hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss to it. James' eyes widened, and he stammered, "I--I don't know--"

"I have need of a companion," Felipe said in that rich, deep voice, and James felt a fluttering at the pit of his stomach. "Why not you?"

Why not him, indeed? "Surely you have your pick of knights and courtiers," James said, trying to suppress his bitterness. "I'm not--exceptional at anything. In Grenlond they would tell you so."

Felipe's startling gaze pinned him. "It's not a contest, Prince James. It's companionship, and more, if you are willing. But only if you are willing."

James didn't know what to make of this oddly courtly Prince--but he thought he would like to find out. "I'm willing," he said, very softly.

"Good luck," the dragon called out. "I can set you up with some supplies, and then I _really_ need to start packing."

Felipe wasn't paying any attention to the dragon. Instead, he was looking straight into James' face and smiling. "To our future, then," he said.

"To our future," James echoed.


End file.
